Stargate: Return of the Ancients, Season 1, Ep 2
by Aer-ki Jyr
Summary: Episode,"Brave New World"
1. Chapter 1

Teyla stood in the center of the primitive town, perched on top of a small wooden platform. At her request the village elders had summoned all their kin to hear her speak about the Wraith and what they could do to oppose them.

"Year upon year we have hidden from the Wraith, trying to minimize the damage they've done to our people, all the while learning to let go of those that were taken because of the indisputable fact that there was nothing that we could do to stop it."

"Yes, some of us fought back, but without success. We did it out of spite, not truly believing that we could win. We fought back to save our sanity, for we could not simply sit by and watch as loved ones were taken away to be fed upon…at the very least we would have tried, and failed, but we tried. We did something, regardless of the outcome."

"Over the years our family and friends would pressure us to stop trying, stop provoking the Wraith and just accept the losses as inevitable. And little by little we lost hope. Generation after generation that hope dwindled until it was barely equal to the flame upon a candle…but it survived, buried deep within our hearts, forbidden from rising to the surface and causing us additional despair, yet it was always there. The hope that someway, somehow the situation would change and we would be able to take back control of our lives and our own destiny."

"A few years ago I was culled by the Wraith and taken onto one of their great hive ships. I was imprisoned within a cell and waited until the hour came when they would finally take me to be fed upon. I had lost any and all hope of surviving, but I did what I could to retain my faculties and at least die with some semblance of strength, of dignity, of defiance."

"But luckily for me the impossible happened and I, along with a few others, were rescued by a group of people from a planet called Earth, which lies far outside our stars and beyond the reach of the Wraith. They didn't fear them as we did. They didn't see the hopelessness that has dominated our entire lives. They saw the Wraith for the first time and didn't react with horror, but with determination. Where we saw an implacable foe they saw weaknesses to exploit, and did so."

"I owe them my life and the life of my people, yet recently they have decided to leave our stars and return to the safety of their world, leaving us to fight the Wraith on our own. My heart filled with dread when I first heard the news. I believed that they were our one and only chance of ever being free of the Wraith…and that chance was going to abandon us to the same fate which we have lived for generation upon generation, almost as if the universe were playing a cruel joke on us, giving us our first real hope only to snatch it away once we started to truly believe."

"The people of Earth are gone, save for a handful that bravely refused to leave us behind, and were themselves left behind as a result. But in what seems like our darkest hour, when the Wraith are culling so many souls out of desperation to feed their unexpectantly awakened numbers, far more than we have ever seen in our lives or the lives of our forefathers…we have a new hope, not just for survival, but for total victory over the Wraith."

"At long last one of the Ancestors has returned to lead us to freedom from the Wraith. He has asked me to travel from village to village to gather those of you willing to fight the Wraith and take you to where he is assembling and training an army that will hunt down and destroy every last one of the monsters."

Teyla raised her right hand in caution. "But make no mistake…the Wraith will not simply lay down and die. It will be a long hard fight, and there is no guarantee that those of you who leave with me will ever return again."

"I cannot promise you any outcome. Victory is not guaranteed, but for the first time in our lives it is a possibility. I can't speak for any of you, but for myself, back when I was imprisoned and waiting to be fed upon I would have given anything just to have been able to strike back at the Wraith. Just to hurt them as they have hurt me and you for untold centuries. Now we have that chance. The question that remains is…will you take it?"

Teylaheld up her left hand for all gathered to see. "This ring he gave to me to prove to you that I speak the truth. He crafted it himself, not as a decoration, but as a defense against the Wraith."

Teyla nodded off to her right and visibly braced herself.

Three quick, whining blasts of an energy weapon tore through the silence and hit Teyla…or rather the energy shield protecting her. As the shield shimmered back to invisibility she turned her attention back to the crowd.

"Those willing to fight should assemble at the Ring of the Ancestors tomorrow at dawn. From there we travel to a place where your training will begin. For now, think upon my words and the weight they carry. Whatever choice you make, danger awaits you, and you must decide how you are going to face it."

Teyla confidently stepped down from the platform and strode out of the village, with the crowd respectfully parting for her. Ronon met her at the edge of the crowd and fell into step beside her.

"Nice speech," he said as they started walking back to the gate.

"I only hope it is successful," Teyla said cautiously.

"We'll get a few at least," Ronon said assuredly. "We might even hit fifty with this group."

"Yes, Colonel Sheppard's magic number," Teyla recounted with some skepticism. "I still do not see the wisdom in starting with so few. My people can help train a much larger number."

"Quality over quantity," Ronon reminded her. "We're not training cannon fodder. We'll have the replicators for that."

"So Stevenson says," Teyla said neutrally. "It's been six weeks and we haven't seen a single one yet. I believe he may be having more trouble than anticipated with their programming."

* * *

Trouble he was having, but not with the replicators.

While he did have access to the full technological knowledge of the Alterra, as well as the small gains made by the Lanteans, he wasn't adept at starship construction, nor naval warfare…which made designing new warships from scratch problematic at best.

Stevenson stood in an unexplored section of Atlantis, his face half contained within the shroud of a neural interface. The green glow from the face shield was the only illumination within the dark room, save for the holographic schematics floating beside him that displayed his annoying lack of progress.

Stevenson pulled back from the device and rubbed his forehead in both frustration and fatigue. The Alterra never had a great need for warships, and instead designed their starships for other purposes, adding on their advanced weaponry almost as an afterthought.

The Lanteans had designed warships in a similar manner, relying on advanced technology but having no martial design about them. Stevenson knew that wasn't going to cut it down the road, even if it might be enough to defeat the Wraith in the here and now, which meant that he had to design entirely new warships…and the learning curve was not treating him well.

Stevenson blew out a defeated breath and stepped back up to the device. The three starship schematics floating in the air disappeared over the circular pedestal. Instead, another design that he had recently finished appeared in hologram over the pedestal and quickly drifted down atop of it, shifting from hologram to materialized creation.

It was a block of nanites. Not quite as small as traditional replicator cells, but nowhere near as large as the old style block replicators. These were still microscopic, but they were a much larger, hardier version, made up mostly of naquada, trinium, and only a dash of neutronium, unlike normal replicator cells that relied primarily on the stuff.

Normally he wouldn't have used the power hungry material synthesis technology to create nanites, but the limited amount of raw materials that had been gathered were being devoted solely to the specialized factories in Atlantis's core that were busily constructing an Ancient outpost beneath the city.

Those factories, and a few specialized labs, were the only industrial infrastructure located within the city. The Alterra had relied on outside production bases on the green gate network, such as the ZPM factory, to produce most of their technology, save for small items like clothing and food that could be synthesized without too much of a power drain on their ZPMs. Materializing an entire ship would have sucked ten dry instantaneously.

Which was why they were going to have to rely on the surviving Alterran infrastructure spread throughout the galaxies that made up the Ancients' former territory. What few facilities the Lanteans had built had been constructed on the public gate network and therefore easily discovered and destroyed by the Wraith, if not by the Lanteans themselves to keep their technology from possibly falling into enemy hands.

Only two gate networks had been built in Pegasus. The public gates and a limited number of supergates for their slower starships to move through, only two of which still existed.

All of which meant that he was going to be seriously racking up his intergalactic frequent traveler miles en mass.

Stevenson pulled out a datapad and activated the block of nanites.

It slithered apart, expanding in volume into its preprogrammed shape…that of a petite human female dressed in a trim, dark grey uniform. It stepped down off the pedestal and looked questioningly at Stevenson, yet said nothing. It just batted its long eyelashes and smiled naively.

"_Come with me_," he ordered in Ancient.


	2. Chapter 2

Sheppard stood tall and impassive, sunglasses obscuring his eyes but not his stern expression as he oversaw the recruits running laps on a dirt track in the middle of a grassy field on a crystal clear day. The distant twin suns shown brightly amidst the brilliant blue sky, warming the field just a bit past comfortable. The ragged band of volunteers, some 43 strong, dragged their out of shape bodies around circuit after circuit, drenched with sweat, yet sustained by their determination.

He had overseen the last three days of training, periodically alternating with Ronon, Teyla, and an Air Force Sergeant by the name of Brand whom Ronon held in high esteem when it came to hand to hand combat. Sheppard was nearing the end of his three days in the encampment and was ready for a return to Atlantis and a decent shower. The temporary facilities they'd set up on the remote planet were adequate, and a bit of a luxury by Pegasus village standards, but he wasn't a local and had never been the 'camping' type back home.

Ronon, on the other hand, spent most of his time in the encampment. He seemed to prefer the natural setting as much as Sheppard preferred the Ancient urban, with Teyla settling somewhere in between.

Sheppard turned around at the sound of feet stomping through the grass and saw his two cohorts leading a band of thirteen Pegasus scrubs, as he thought of them, toward the training ground.

He was glad to see more new faces, but it was going to take a lot of effort to polish the ragged, undisciplined rabble into proper soldiers…assuming they even tested out of the introductory training. Optimistically he was hoping for maybe half a dozen out of this first group.

"I was wondered when you guys would get back," he said, cracking a smile for the first time that day. "They're all yours…good hunting by the way."

"Yes, the Morari settlement provided more volunteers than we had expected," Teyla confirmed, glancing back at their recently acquired recruits, then at the others in training, including four of her own people. "I take it you have had problems."

"Problems no, just an overall lack of fitness."

"We'll take care of that," Ronon declared, striding forward and waving at his new men to follow.

"Okay, then. I'm packing out," Sheppard said, turning to Teyla. "You staying or going?"

"I'll join you in a few hours. I want to make sure the new recruits get settled."

"We can swap notes when you get back," Sheppard said casually as he trudged off towards the gate on the other side of a small, adjacent ridge.

* * *

Far off in the Milky Way galaxy, Stevenson and his replicator companion returned to the "gate center" via a gate-jump directly from Atlantis to the center's high security yellow gate…the only one of the five inside the space station that would receive incoming wormholes.

As soon as they stepped out of the event horizon Stevenson turned an abrupt left and stepped over to the nearby green gate and placed a hand on the outside of the great ring. He dialed an address from memory, having visually scanned the address and determined its viability the first time he was here, yet unable to do anything about it at the time.

The green gate's event horizon snapped into place and the pair walked through even before the incoming wormhole in the yellow gate deactivated. Both gates operated with different frequencies of wormholes, which meant that both could be simultaneously activated because they couldn't detect the presence of the other.

It was in this same way that the Pegasus gates couldn't connect with those in the Milky Way, not because of some elaborate safety protocol, but because as far as the tracking systems within the Pegasus gates knew, there weren't any other stargates in existence outside of the galaxy. The original gates operated on different frequencies and were therefore outside of their connective capability.

The specialized gate crystal in Atlantis operated like the DHDs did in the Milky Way and other Ancient galaxies, temporarily altering the frequency of the gate they were connected to in order to make a connection between gate networks…the special thing about the gate crystal was that it worked not just for outgoing wormholes, but for incoming ones as well.

The Lanteans had made Atlantis's stargate accessible to other gates with the crystal by causing the Atlantis stargate to alter its frequency on an incoming wormhole if, and only if, that wormhole originated from Earth. The crystal allowed the gate to 'see' when and where other frequency gates attempted to search their coordinates for a lock, but would only reveal its presence to Earth's stargate, where it would then reset itself to the red gate frequency and allow a connection to take place.

That single crystal was the only one of its kind in the galaxy that contained the frequencies of the other gate networks and their access codes. Without it, no wormholes could leave Pegasus, and since no DHD in the rest of the Ancients' domain had been updated with Pegasus gate frequencies, it was impossible to connect to the galaxy outside of Earth…save for the using the gate center to search out and find the new Pegasus frequencies, as Stevenson had done.

That single station was the hub of the entire gate network, and the only location to contain all six network hubs…which was why it rated yellow gate security. Not only could all the stargates within the Ancients' galaxies be monitored by the gate center, they could also be controlled, activated, and deactivated by remote. Locations could be isolated, wormholes rerouted, and entire sections of the galaxy or galaxies quarantined if need be.

It was as vital an installation as they came, and out of the Ancients' ingenuity and the station's anonymity (not even the Ancients' allies knew of its existence) it had survived intact for all these millions of years.

Other installations hadn't been so lucky…such was the case of the foodstuff production plant that Stevenson had just gated into.

He stepped out of the gate onto a floor filled with rubble, the result of a large hole in the ceiling and the piece of rock lying imbedded into the floor that was apparently the source of the damage.

Stevenson walked around and over smaller pieces of debris until he found an intact terminal. He tried to access its systems, but got only random responses from the Ancient machinery…much as he'd feared.

All Ancient facilities had a small number of nanites circulating through their systems, making minute repairs to the control circuitry and other vulnerable systems. Apparently the impact had exhausted the limited supply of non-replicable nanites and significant deterioration had ensued over the millennia.

Stevenson turned to face the replicator that he'd specifically designed for repair work rather than security. "_Assess system damage and viability of repair_."

With only a nod of recognition, the replicator walked up to the terminal and extended its slender hand into the control board…and disintegrated into the machinery.

Stevenson walked away, knowing a full system analysis was going to take time. He made his way across the debris and into a more intact wing of the facility. Eventually he arrived two stories above, in an observation platform that had been filled with sand, blown in through a broken window.

Seeing exterior light illuminating the sand with a red glow from somewhere off to his right, Stevenson climbed over the small sand dune and worked his way around to the other side of the platform.

The windows on this side were intact, and gave him a nearly panoramic view of the planet's surface. The dull white sand looked blood red as far as his eyes could see, overcast by a bright, red giant star dominating the sky.

Below him and spreading out to the left on the sand-covered planet extended several kilometers worth of additional buildings, all attached together into one massive complex that the Ancients had used to produce foodstuffs which where then shipped out to warehouse facilities in each galaxy through the orange gate network, which had been designed to facilitate high-traffic cargo transfers that would have otherwise tied up the other gate networks.

Elsewhere in the facility, probably on the loading dock, there was an orange stargate along with an army of cargo sleds designed to fit through the gate much like the puddle jumpers did, and were shaped in a similar fashion.

Those cargo trains weren't his interest at the moment, but rather the foodstuff production facilities and the patterns stored within their synthesis machinery. While Stevenson did already possess those patterns in memory, he really didn't want to spend days programming them manually into Atlantis's mainframe.

Yes, Atlantis did already contain the patterns for some of the basic Ancient foodstuffs, which resembled solid bars, circles, and other geometric patterns, but these production facilities contained the patterns for thousands of varieties that Stevenson knew were of varying nutritional value…and he wanted them all.

And while Atlantis could materialize any amount of foodstuffs that her current population might require, eventually their population would grow and power requirements would become too vast, requiring a more conventional means of production…hence he needed to salvage this facility if at all possible.

Stevenson waited in the observation platform for a while, then belatedly decided to explore more of the facility while he waited. Three hours later the replicator tracked him down and slithered its way out of a nearby console.

"_Report._"

"_Operating systems have experienced a significant amount of decay, yet computer memory is intact. Connective circuitry needs to be refurbished and replaced in seven locations where the lines have been physically severed. I estimate 10.2 hours for repair if given sufficient repair materials…85.7 hours if I have to cannibalize secondary systems to obtain the necessary compounds_."

"_What production capacity will be available after repairs to the operating systems are complete?_"

"_I estimate twelve percent, though I won't know for certain until I get the compound's diagnostic circuitry repaired. I detected significant damage and decay to the production line, but I believe the tertiary wing is relatively intact and can be brought online immediately, barring unforeseen damage_."

"_Begin scavenging unrepairable systems only_," Stevenson ordered. "_I'll return with additional materials within the day. What exactly do you require?_"


	3. Chapter 3

"_Master Bra'tac, there is someone outside that wishes to speak with you_," the Jaffa sentry reported to the elder warrior inside the pyramid complex on the planet Isidor.

"_Is this the one we have been foretold about?_" Bra'tac asked.

"_He_ _is. He said he's been searching for your whereabouts the past two weeks_."

"_Is he armed?_"

"_He is not._"

The balding warrior nodded. "_Then let him come. I am curious as to his purpose._"

The sentry nodded, half bowing in the process, then left the room. A few minutes later he returned with two additional guards and a slightly shorter man draped in a simple, grey, oversized robe that disguised his features.

"_I hear that you have been searching for Bra'tac of Chulak amongst the worlds controlled by the Jaffa Nation. I am the one you seek. Speak_."

"_I have heard much of you from the Tau'ri_," the hooded man said, also speaking in Goa'uld. "_They say that you are the greatest of warriors, with decades of battle experience and a respect unequalled amongst the Jaffa. They also say that above all else it is your wisdom and skill that set you apart from the rest of your brethren_," he said, slowly pulling back his hood to reveal his smooth, angular face and sandy, almost white hair. "_If your reputation is even half true, I have need of your skills_."

"_It is customary upon meeting another to give one's name_," Bra'tac reproached mildly.

The man half nodded. "_I would give it to you in private, for there could be repercussions if others knew that I am here_."

Bra'tac's eyes narrowed as he measured up the man. "_Wait outside_," he ordered the sentry and guards.

All three nodded in respect then exited the room. The stone-like door slid into place and sealed the room from any eavesdropping.

"_I am Stevenson, formerly of the Tau'ri_," he revealed, pulling off his robe. Beneath it he wore a solid white, form-fitting uniform adorned with a bracelet, ring, and matching silver gauntlets made of a twisting metal weave.

Bra'tac seemed unphased by the name at first, then a stray connection clicked into place. "You are the one that escaped Earth, yes?"

"_I am_," Stevenson confirmed.

"There is no need to speak in our tongue, young one. Though I must say, I am impressed with your linguistic skills."

"_I apologize, but I can no longer speak English as I once did. I learned to speak Goa'uld only recently so that there would be no need for an intermediary between us_."

Bra'tac frowned slightly. "What has happened to you?"

"_You weren't told?_" Stevenson asked.

"Nothing more that to keep on the lookout for two fugitives from Earth should they ever cross our paths."

"_What do you know of the Alterra?_"

Bra'tac shook his head. "Nothing."

Stevenson smiled faintly. "_My apologies, you refer to them as the Ancients._"

Bra'tac hesitated for a moment as his mind started to put the pieces together. "I know of another Tau'ri who lost his ability to speak his native language when that knowledge had been overwritten by the language of the Ancients."

Stevenson nodded. Bra'tac was already proving his intellect. "O'Neill."

Bra'tac's eyes widen a bit further. "You have been changed in a similar way…yes?"

"_I have_."

"Do you not then possess the knowledge of the Ancients?"

"_I do_."

Bra'tac looked him up and down again, as if seeing him for the first time. "Is this why you are unwelcome on Earth?"

"_It is. They wished to imprison me so that they could use my knowledge to their own ends. I could not allow that to happen_."

"What is it then that you wish of me? Sanctuary?"

"_No, I require your combat skills_."

Bra'tac twisted his head slightly to the right. "Is there a war being waged that I am unaware of?"

"_Yes, and it will come to the Jaffa in due time. In exchange for your help I will provide you with what you need to defend yourselves, that which you are currently unable to produce…new ships_."

Bra'tac stared at Stevenson directly, feeling that there was something more to this than he was being told. "Explain."

Stevenson sighed. This was going to take a while, and he was going to have to be careful not to tell Bra'tac too much about his true mission. Lyran had made his mind unreadable by ascended beings but Bra'tac's was not, so he couldn't risk giving the Jaffa any information that could compromise his mission.

Stevenson waved his hand at the nearby table and chairs. "_Have a seat_."

* * *

After fifteen hours of illuminating discussion Bra'tac was finally convinced. It seemed the old warrior had yet one more campaign to wage before the last of his days came to an end.

"This is indeed a brave new world that we live in," he said in awe of all that had changed in so few years. "As much as I had hoped that democracy would serve the Jaffa well, I admit that I find your wisdom undeniable. If we allow ourselves to become as stagnant and corrupt as the Tau'ri we will be ill equipped to fight the coming war…and we may very well lose the essence of what it is to be a warrior. I will not let that come to pass in my final days. We have fought too long and too hard for this freedom to see it misused and replaced by another form of depredation."

Bra'tac, pacing away while he spoke, held up his hand in pause. "I will not, however, destroy the democracy that we have created. We will let it run its course, and perhaps our fears will not yet come to light."

"I will help you design your ships, along with the replacements for our H'ttak. With your help, I shall then endeavor to build up our forces here, in secret, and be ready to strike when your war spills over into this galaxy. That is the only path I see available to us," Bra'tac turned to face Stevenson once again. "Do you concur?"

Stevenson nodded. "A_ll except that part about your final days._"

Bra'tac smiled regretfully. "An undeniable part of life, I'm afraid. I've not half the strength I once had…yet my wits are still about me. Rest assured, I will not fail in my part."

"_Not what I meant_," Stevenson said as he walked closer to Bra'tac. He reached a hand toward his forehead, stopping a few centimeters from it. "_With your permission?_"

"You wish to read my mind and verify my intent?" Bra'tac guessed.

Stevenson nodded.

"You have my permission."

Stevenson placed his right hand on Bra'tac's right temple, then brought his left hand up and fully bracketed the man's head. His search through his mind and memories was brief…his telepathic powers had already increased to the point where he could pull some thoughts and emotions without physical contact…yet what he did next was far more lengthy and complex.

After nearly twenty minutes Stevenson withdrew his contact, nearly exhausted. Bra'tac too seemed to be mildly fatigued.

"Did you find what you were searching for?" Bra'tac asked, rubbing his forehead against a slight headache.

"_I did_," Stevenson said, once again sitting down in a chair. "_And so too shall you, my friend_."

Bra'tac frowned at him. "You did something else while you were in my mind?"

"_Your old strength will return to you over time_," Stevenson assured him, "_and then some_."


	4. Chapter 4

"I would not have believed it, if I had not seen it with my own eyes," Bra'tac said in awe after he stepped out of the event horizon into the gate center. "Five Chappa'ai, all of different color."

"_Six_," Stevenson corrected him. "_There is a chappa'ko outside_."

Bra'tac shook his head in dismay. "It amazes me that such a place could remain undiscovered for such a long period of time."

"_We're sitting in deep space, far from any star systems_," Stevenson explained as they walked toward the entrance to the control tower. "_Unless you know where to look, you'll never find it by ship, and without the access codes you can't get here by chappa'ai either_."

"Never the less, it is a wonder to behold," Bra'tac said, following on Stevenson's heels through the maze of tunnels that led off elsewhere inside the gigantic space station. Soon they entered the control room, with the multi-galaxy map catching Bra'tac's eye.

"So this is the extent of the Ancients' domain." he asked rhetorically.

Stevenson highlighted the network of supergates within the galaxies. "_These are the chappa'ko that I spoke of, and the reason for the maximum width restriction for our ships_."

"And to think, all this time they sat right under our noses. I don't suppose it would have given the Goa'uld that much of an immediate advantage…I very much doubt a Ha'tak would fit through the ring."

Stevenson brought up a diagram of one of the supergates and interposed a crude replica of a Goa'uld ha'tak from memory.

Bra'tac's eyes widened further. "It seems I am in error. A standard Ha'tak will fit through. Had the Goa'uld access to these chappa'ko, they would have been able to conquer much more of the galaxy. It is indeed fortunate that they were so well hidden."

"_This is where we are going_," Stevenson said, highlighting a gate in another galaxy. "_The galaxy of Ida_."

Outside, visible through the windows in the control room, the green gate activated in an outgoing wormhole.

"_I've already sent ahead supplies for our stay. We have as much time as is required to complete the basic designs…though I will have to make an occasional absence to handle other business_."

"Then let us begin," Bra'tac said, eager to see more of the Ancients' legacy.

* * *

It was on one of those occasional absences that Stevenson returned to Atlantis to check up on Sheppard's progress.

"Morning," Stevenson said amicably, waking Sheppard up in his bed.

He woke up rudely, mumbling something incoherent, then his eyes widened when he realized it was Stevenson. "Where the hell have you been? I've been looking for you for days."

"Busy," Stevenson said simply. He'd worked around the Ancient language override enough to be able to answer with some brief, odd sounding words.

"I'll bet…we need some more of your toys," Sheppard said, swinging his legs off the side of the bed and sitting up. "Ronon feels a few of our guys are ready for basic weapons training…for which we'll need basic Ancient weapons, assuming you don't want us using P-90's?"

Stevenson shook his head no, and touched the bracelet on his right wrist. "_Beta, I need you to synthesize four type-B pistols with stun setting only. Deliver them to Sheppard's quarters when finished_."

"_Understood. I'll have them there in 6.2 minutes_."

Stevenson gave Sheppard a thumbs up, then handed him a tablet with a prepared message.

Sheppard suddenly jolted wide awake. "Are you serious?"

Stevenson nodded.

Sheppard twisted a kink out of his neck. "I guess he'd be the man for the job, but he's back on Earth…you want to get both at the same time?"

Stevenson nodded, this time slower for emphasis.

"You know, you are certifiably crazy…when do you want to do this?"

Stevenson shook his head and waved off his question. "La…er."

"Not in a hurry, huh? That's fine with me. Just give me a heads up a day or so before you're ready."

Stevenson nodded, then pointed his thumb at his chest, then over his shoulder.

"You're off to who knows where again?"

"Ida."

"Ida…what, the Asgard's old galaxy. That Ida?!"

Stevenson nodded casually, not seeing a reason for Sheppard's excitement.

"I asked you to take me with you the next time you went scavenging."

Stevenson shrugged his shoulders. "Oops."

"Oops?" Sheppard repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Of all the words you don't know how to say, you remember _oops_.?"

Stevenson smiled and waved goodbye before turning around and leaving Sheppard's quarters.

"Wait a minute," Sheppard yelled as he hurriedly got dressed. When he finished he darted off after Stevenson, nearly running into the replicator on the outside of his quarter's door.

"Colonel, I have the requested weapons," it said, smiling coyly. "I assume they are for you?"

"Thanks," Sheppard said, grabbing the box from her and running after Stevenson, hoping to catch up to him before he reached the gate.

He got there just in time to see the event horizon vanish.

"Son of a…," he said, looking over at the Athosian sitting nearby in the control room. "Where did he go?"

The young woman shrugged. "He input the coordinates himself, along with a lot of other symbols I don't understand. I thought the maximum number was eight?"

"It is," Sheppard confirmed, "unless you're a smartelic, backstabbing, good for nothing Ancient with a nose that looks like…"

Sheppard stopped when he saw the Athosian looking at him strangely. "Never mind. Let me know the moment he gets back."

"Yes, Colonel," she said smiling as he walked off.

* * *

Stevenson arrived back at the Ancients' theoretical design and simulation center where he found Bra'tac conversing with the holo interface, which had been modeled after a very brusque ancient researcher.

"It seems your computer and I have a different of opinion, Master Stevenson."

"_I told you to drop the 'Master' earlier_," he reminded Bra'tac.

"And I will, once you give me another title to address you by," the old man countered.

"_Titles are meaningless at this point. What's the problem?_" he asked, glancing at the partial schematic floating between Bra'tac and the holographic Ancient.

"It says their beaming technology is insufficient at a range over two kilometers," Bra'tac explained.

"_It is_," Stevenson confirmed, "_which is why we built the rings_."

"Yes," Bra'tac said, glancing back at the hologram, "it has informed me of such. But I know for a fact that the Tau'ri possess beaming technology that functions at a significantly greater range. How then, can the Tau'ri possess technology greater than that of the Ancients."

"_The range limitation isn't the only factor in why we developed the rings_," Stevenson said in mild defense. "_In the time since my brethren's demise, the Asgard have improved on the technology rather than utilize our ring transports. I don't know why they chose to do this, but it is from them that the Tau'ri obtained the technology_."

"What were the other reasons," Bra'tac asked, curious. He well knew the advantages of such beaming technology and wasn't about to abandon it lightly.

"_They are easy to interfere with. The ring transport system is much hardier and can be used in many situations where the beaming technology is unfeasible_."

"Yet the beaming technology can pick up or deposit one anywhere on the surface of a planet, whereas the rings much have an identical set to transmit to," Bra'tac countered.

"_We never had much need for that_," Stevenson admitted, talking as if he'd lived those millions of years ago.

"Perhaps not," Bra'tac counseled, "but we should make use of the technology none the less, and I suggest we install both means of transport on our ships. At the very least I want the transport beams for my Jaffa vessels."

Stevenson nodded in acquiescence. "_As you wish, though it will take some time to acquire the Asgard designs. I recommend we leave that piece of technology until last_."

"It is settled then," Bra'tac said, turning back to the partial schematics. "I have need of you to modify the primary weapon…the yield is too low."

Stevenson raised an eyebrow. "_If we increase power it will diminish fire rate. I thought that was something you wished to avoid?_"

Bra'tac shook his head. "By its nature, this weapon is an ungainly one. In order to be used effectively you must line up your shot, which takes time. One will only get a few shots before the battle is decided, perhaps even only one…therefore we must assure that we make it a heavy blow. Such a weapon is not easy to use effectively, but in skilled hands it will prove its worth."

"_If you say so_," Stevenson said, not totally convinced. "_How much do you wish to increase its yield?_"

"Tenfold," Bra'tac said without hesitation.


	5. Chapter 5

Two months after being kicked out of Atlantis on the end of Sheppard's boot, Richard Woolsey sat at the side of the SGC's briefing room table as his IOA cohort, Ian Victor, ran through the list of reasons for going after the now rogue city of Atlantis and the criminals who'd stolen it.

"In addition, your President is in full agreement with the need to reacquire the city and bring Colonel Sheppard and Captain Stevenson to justice," the Brit reinforced. "So why are there currently no ships out hunting for the city?"

"Because it's a really bad plan," O'Neill said in muted frustration. "We have no idea where they went, let alone if they're still in Pegasus. And just for the sake of argument, what exactly do you think we could do once we found them?"

"Recover the city," Victor said patronizingly.

"I believe the General is concerned," Landry jumped in as O'Neill gently banged his forehead on the table in a gesture of futility, "with our ability to bypass Atlantis's shield and get our teams within the city."

"We have the Asgard beam weapons," Victor continued. "Use them to breach the shield and forcibly take back the city."

"Might I remind you," O'Neill said irreverently, "that this is the city of the Ancients. Our current technology, even with what the Asgard gave us, is no match for what they've got…especially now that they have someone who knows how to use it."

"So you believe," Victor countered. "That hasn't been confirmed."

"The city took off from the planet," Woolsey gingerly interjected, "and entered hyperspace at a speed that even our 304s can't match. That shouldn't be possible with only one ZPM. Either they somehow acquired more, or this Stevenson did something above and beyond our current understanding of Ancient tech."

Victor turned on his fellow IOA representative with a look of betrayal. "We _must_ have the city back."

"I think we all here agree on that point," Woolsey offered conciliatorily.

"I don't," O'Neill said, raising his hand for emphasis.

Woolsey leaned up over the edge of the table and looked down to the far end at O'Neill. "Surely you must understand the importance of the technology within the city."

"Oh, I surely do," O'Neill said sarcastically, "but in my book I'd write this one off as karma. You all wanted to abandon Pegasus and blow up Atlantis after looting it to your hearts' content. Personally, I rather like the turn of events."

"But why?" Woolsey asked with that innocent, incredulous look he used so often.

"Because it once again gives me the chance to say…I told you so."

"General," Victor began to patronize again, "we are all aware of your misgivings over our plans for Atlantis, but how we choose to utilize the city is none of your concern."

"It is when it's our ships that'll be taking fire in the retrieval process," Landry interjected again.

Victor raised an eyebrow speculatively. "You really think they'd fire on one of their own ships?"

"I would," O'Neill stated, "if I was shot at first."

"Which is exactly what you're suggesting we do," Landry added.

"Alright then," Victor conceded, "give me another option."

The briefing room fell silent for a few moments before Landry finally said, "McKay."

Victor's eyes narrowed. "Explain."

Landry blew out a reluctant breath. "Dr. McKay has been our foremost expert on the city of Atlantis since we first discovered it. If there's any way of getting past its shield he'll be the man to find it."

"Where is McKay currently?" Victor asked.

"Area 51," O'Neill answered reluctantly.

"Then this meeting is postponed until you can recall him here."

Landry glanced down at his watch. "Give me ten minutes," he said smiling.

* * *

"No," McKay said emphatically after being beamed over to the SGC via the _Odyssey_ in orbit. "I'm not doing it. I'll resign first."

Victor was about to say something unpleasant when Landry held up a hand to stop him. "Dr. McKay, you're the best man we have for the job."

"Best _man_ maybe," O'Neill added from the other end of the table.

McKay turned to him. "No matter what I do, you're always going to assume that Carter knows more than me. Oh no, completely ignore the five years I spent on Atlantis compared to the one year she spent, and of course she'll be more of an expert than I am, especially given that she was pulling command duty rather than working with and analyzing the Ancient tech. During her year of tenure, it was _me_ who she came to when she needed something done…_me_, because I know Atlantis's systems inside and out, far better than she could ever hope to."

"Actually," O'Neill said quietly, "I was referring to Stevenson and the fact that he isn't quite Human anymore."

"Oh," McKay said, caught offguard. "Well in that case I agree with you. That man…Ancient now, I guess…knows far more about Atlantis's systems than I ever will."

Woolsey cleared his throat. "Do you have any idea how he managed to get the city to fly that fast on one ZPM?"

"Well I, hadn't really put much thought to that," he said hesitantly, making it clear that he was holding something back.

"What do you know, Dr?" Landry said firmly.

"Who me? Nothing."

"Dr. McKay," Victor said, standing a bit straighter, "if you're intentionally withholding information you can be charged with conspiracy and put into confinement."

"Hey," McKay yelled, pointing a finger at Victor. "I came back like I was supposed to."

"Enough!" Landry yelled. "We are not going to start pointing fingers amongst ourselves. And the only people that are being charged are the ones that chose to stay in Atlantis. McKay is not at fault for wanting to shield his former teammates, but we do need to know what we're up against before we risk a confrontation," he emphasized, looking directly at McKay.

Rodney frowned. "Fine, I might as well tell you. Maybe you'll think twice before sending anyone after them. Sheppard and Stevenson brought two additional ZPMs back with them. Atlantis is fully powered now…and you don't have a prayer of getting past their shields. Take a cue from the Wraith if you don't believe me."

Woolsey stood in utter shock. "Three ZPMs! Where did find two more? He's right, there's no way we can retake the city if it's fully powered."

Victor looked to O'Neill. "Have we lost any of our ZPMs?"

O'Neill shook his head slowly. "Not that I know of…and if we had I think I would have been told."

"Then Atlantis has acquired two new ZPMs…which makes recovering the city even more of a priority now," Victor said, his eyes gleaming greedily.

"I don't think you're hearing what they're saying," Landry said irreverently. "With three ZPMs the Ancients held off the Wraith indefinitely. How are we supposed to succeed where they failed?"

"Use the Asgard knowledge in _Odyssey_'s data core," Victor suggested, "or find some way to infiltrate Atlantis and deactivate the shield from inside. It doesn't matter how you do it, just find a way."

O'Neill suddenly stood, resting his arms on the table as he stared down all assembled. "My orders from the President are to recover Atlantis _if feasible_. That means if there's a quick and painless way to retake the city then we will, but if it isn't doable, or if it'll cost us a ship or more in the process then we aren't going to try."

"McKay, I need you to go with the search teams and give an honest effort to try and find a way into Atlantis. If it truly can't be done, then we'll abandon the idea."

"General…"Victor began to interrupt.

O'Neill held up a stop finger. "I'm not finished yet. Regardless of what the IOA wishes to happen, we can't ignore facts. And one fact that I certainly am not ignoring is the fact that I take orders from the President and not the IOA. I'm also not ignoring the fact that it will be US Air Force ships that will be going after Atlantis. Neither the Russian nor the Chinese 304s are anywhere near complete, so it's US assets that will be put in jeopardy, and I'm not going to risk good people on some hair-brained IOA scheme."

"So this is how we're going to play this," O'Neill continued. "McKay, I'm sending you and the _Odyssey_ back into Pegasus to do your thing. If nothing else try and locate Atlantis. We need to at least have an idea of where it is and what they're up to. I'm sending the _Daedalus_ and _Apollo_ along with you to help in the search. The _Phoenix_ will stay behind and safeguard Earth."

"Colonel Carter has recently been given command of the _Odyssey_ and will be in charge of the overall operation. Does that suit you, McKay, or is the stargate program going to lose your valuable services to retirement?"

Rodney starred down at his feet for a moment. "I still don't like it, but I'll agree to go under those terms…and Colonel Carter's command."

"General O'Neill," Victor objected. "Do you really think it's wise to put the operation under the command of someone who has a personal connection to Atlantis?"

"Colonel Carter will do her duty," O'Neill emphasized. "Which, by the way, is to the Air Force and orders I give her, not to the whims of the IOA."

"Never the less, General," Victor said, none too happy. "On behalf of the IOA, we would like a representative to oversee the operation."

"Observe, yes," O'Neill correct him. "Oversee, no."

Victor didn't answer, he just stared at O'Neill in aggravation.

"I'll go," Woolsey offered. "My limited experience with Atlantis may prove to be of some use...if that's acceptable to all parties?"

"You're free to tag along," O'Neill agreed, "but Carter has the authority to push you out an airlock if you get in the way."

"General!?" Victor protested.

Woolsey stood, cautioning Victor. "The General is exaggerating in order to make a point." He turned to face O'Neill. "I understand that I'll have no actual authority, but this way I can give the IOA assurances that certain persons aren't deliberately compromising the mission due to personal feelings."

"If 'all parties' includes me," Rodney said passively, "then I vote no."

"I can assure you it doesn't," Woolsey said stiffly.

"Well actually," O'Neill started to say. "McKay, is there another IOA representative you'd feel more comfortable with?"

Rodney sighed. "I suppose not."

"Well then…" O'Neill said, waving at all assembled to get their asses moving.

"Are you going to beam me back to Area 51," Rodney asked irreverently, "or am I going to have to walk? I have an ongoing experiment that needs finished or deactivated before it blows up half the continent."

"I thought we stopped doing those?" O'Neill asked deadpan.

Landry turned back to O'Neill as Victor and his associates began to file from the briefing room. "How long until we need to pass McKay your way?" he asked after the IOA suits had moved out of earshot.

"Two weeks," O'Neill said, giving Stevenson and Sheppard as much lead time as he dared. He glanced over at McKay. "Well…better start packing."


End file.
